


a matter of taste

by gisho



Series: After A Fashion [1]
Category: Girl Genius
Genre: Bisexuality, Ficlet, Pre-Canon, bickering not-siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 03:33:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14824478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gisho/pseuds/gisho
Summary: Wherin fifteen-year-old Tarvek tries to explain fashion and style to Violetta and accidentally comes out to her in the process.





	a matter of taste

\--

"And the _colour_. Does no one know how to coordinate anymore?" Tarvek is waving his hands in the air, which he only does when he's trying to convince anyone who's watching that he's a useless fop, or when he's really, really upset. Violetta would give it about fifty-fifty. "Orange and green only go together if you're a tiger and you're trying not to be seen by your prey! Because deer are colourblind!"

Violetta rolls her eyes to distract him from the canape she's plucking out of his hand. "Maybe the Countess is colourblind."

"And her dressmaker?"

"Could be."

The trouble with his trying to convince everyone that he's a useless fop is that Tarvek really _is_ a useless fop but you couldn't convince most of their ornery relatives that the sun is a sphere. But Tarvek keeps trying. "Same dressmaker as Lady Whjiflenberg, then? You must be able to see her over by the aspidistras. Dipsomaniacs should not wear magenta."

"Neither should redheads, and here you are anyway."

"One, it's _scarlet_ , two, it's the traditional family colour and my father likes us in matching outfits, three, I don't have permanent flushed cheeks." He lifts the canape, goes briefly cross-eyed at the sight of his empty fingers, then transfers his glare to Violetta. "Was that really necessary? They'll bring out more creampuffs if you're patient."

"But I'd have to stop listening to you blather long enough to find a waiter." Violetta crosses her arms and glares. "Do I look like _I'm_ wearing a Venetian-inspired lozenge frock, or a togette in sunset satin, or whatever it is you're going to go on about next?"

"Er? No? You're dressed like a Smoke Knight." 

"Then why would I care?" 

Tarvek looks so so offended at this his cheeks actually start to turn red, which doesn't improve the look of the red-and-purple coat at all. But he says, "Just because you're not in the orchestra doesn't mean you don't wince when someone's viol is out of tune," which is a better point than Violetta expected him to make. 

Not that she's going to admit it. She  
settles for, "So the advantage of that awful thing you're wearing is that you don't have to look at it?"

Tarvek actually looks around to make sure no one is paying attention before he leans in a little closer to whisper, "The _advantage_ is that it flatters my father, and just in case you havn't noticed, I'm trying to feed his ego until he feels magnanimous enough to send me to Paris for university. Come on," and now he's being wheedling again, "don't you want to live in Paris?" 

"Mmmmaybe." Violetta eyes him. Is he just asking for her to stay out of his way, or could she actually help him? It's not like Prince Aaronev the Blockhead pays her any more attention than the occasional mutter about how his precious son could have done better, which she'd get a lot angrier about if he weren't right. But they're stuck with each other. She can finish her training in Paris perfectly well. "Do they have better dressmakers there? That you won't have to rant about?"

Her cousin scowls. "Better _dressmakers_ , maybe. They'll still have fools for clients."

Is this one of those inexplicable things she's going to hear entirely too much about? Like the complete rise and fall of the Fake Muse as a circus act and its connection to royalist sentiment? Well, she might as well get it over with. "I don't follow."

"Even if the people making clothes refuse to deal with - the worst excesses," he shudders as if he's remembering the Bustle Invasion, "some people will still wear stupid hairstyles, or say goodbye to their cats and forget to use a brush after, or just - not wear things well. You see that fellow in the corner talking to the stuffed eagles? Doctor Medyard? The suit's fine, turquoise works with dark brown skin, but he's slumped over and he's stuffed his wineglass in the pocket and it just makes him look dreadful, even in that nice suit."

There are a couple people like that, now Violetta's looking for them. And turning it around - "That man talking to Anevka looks nice even though he has on a double-tailed waistcoat."

Tarvek follows her gaze, and lets out a noise somewhere between a chuckle and a wistful sigh. "Some people could make a burlap sack look good."

"She looks absolutely besotted." Anevka almost certainly has more sense, but Violetta knows how convincing a flatterer she can be. _Anevka_ would never resort to changing her wardrobe to make someone fall at her feet. 

"I don't blame her. So am I."

And that was _definitely_ a wistful sigh, and Tarvek can't possibly have meant to just _come out and admit it_ like that. Violetta just barely holds back a crow of glee. She digs her knuckles into Tarvek's ribs instead. "So you really _do_ fly both sides of the clouds. I knew it."

The color Tarvek's face is turning doesn't suit him any more than the magenta waistcoat, but it crumples into panic just slightly too fast for Violetta to decide to point and laugh.

To hell with it. He's not her most obnoxious cousin. "Relax, I don't really care. I mean. Uh." She takes a deep breath and the words come tumbling out in a half-huff, half-whisper. "SodoIthey'rebothprettybutI'dwantagirlfriendifIwerelooking." 

That throws him off. "Er." He's still blushing. "You really should come to Paris, then, they have - clubs." But his face twists back into its familiar smirk as he adds, "And don't tell me we have _nothing_ in common anymore, will you? Clearly you've somehow picked up my good taste."

"Since when do you have taste? You were eating those lavender-infused asparagus spears earlier."

"Just one. One was enough. And so did you."

"Of course I did, I had to check them for poison." Violetta made a face. "I should have said they were, and then they would have thrown out the rest and nobody else at the party would have had to taste the damn things."

"Oh, come on," Tarvek says, and his easy grin is reassuring even if it makes Violetta wish she had a drink to dump over his smug face. "Half our relatives are here. Don't you have any enemies?"

\---


End file.
